


I know you are but what I am?

by skinsuit



Category: Withnail & I (1986)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/skinsuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Withnail claims he’s straight, Marwood doubts him. And in a drunken moment he dares to discover what Withnail is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know you are but what I am?

“ _I’ll never be your beast of burden all I want is for you to make love to me.”- Rolling stones._

“You f-f-fucker,” Marwood swore drunkenly  
.  
 “Eh?” Withnail lit his fag and looked up from the gutter which he had just finished vomiting in.

“That bird in the pub! She wanted me and you chased her off. I haven’t been laid in a donkey’s age.” Marwood said.  
 “So? She was a tart. You trust me, I saved you from a dose of the clap,” said Withnail.  
 Marwood stumbled over to his friend.

“Easy for you to say.. you... you..” Marwood said.

“Yes? What are you implying?” Withnail remarked.

“You don’t like girls,” said Marwood pointing one finger at his roommate’s pigeon chest.

Withnail spat out a gob of phlegm and glared at him. “What?! How dare you! I’ve had more cuny than you’ve had hot breakfasts.”

“The last time a girl tried to pull you you screamed at her. And scapared!” Marwood snapped.

“That thing was not a woman. I’d rather shag a dead dog.” repiled Withnail. “I only get top shelf crumpet. Remember Jocasta Baynes-Smith?”

They ambled back to their flat. Marwood looked over at his flatmate . “Jocasta from drama school, she was... was-,” his drunk brain scrambled for a adjective. “....fit.”

“Exactly. Fucked her brains out, five times one night. After we rehearsed lines together for The Dollhouse.” Said Withnail with a certain pride.

“Right.” Marwood said grudgingly admitting defeat.”Who else?”  
 They were on the threshold on of the flat.

“That was an example of many,” Withnail said aloofly. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Bollocks!” barked Marwood.

“I’m not some prancing queer,” said Withnail as they went up the stairs.  
When suddenly a thought struck Marwood. He was drunk and it seemed like such a genius idea.

As they entered the flat, he closed the door behind Withnail, pinned him against the wall and kissed him deeply and forcefully.  
In the shock of the moment Withnail had opened his mouth, Marwood decided to test the boundaries.  
Withnail tasted of cigarette ash, booze, and vomit. That’s when or something like that he felt Withnail’s hands around his shoulders. His friend responded eagerly and with a ferocity that stunned Marwood. He should have stopped, a part of his brain told him to. But that part was miles away. He knew now was his chance to make up for all the shags and chances of such Withnail had inadvertently deprived him of. And with his insane drunken logic, it made sense. Get back the sex he had missed by shagging Withnail. He kept snogging this booze soaked fiend. His hand tangled in Withnail’s greasy hair. He slowly guided Withnail to the bedroom by kissing and stroking him.

“What are you doing?” Withnail asked tentatively looking up from the bed he had been pushed on.

 “I’m going to fuck you,” Marwood growled. “I’m going to fuck you to prove once and for all I am not gay.”

“That is most hypocritical statement I’ve heard this decade, you fucker,” Withnail said with a laugh.

Marwood shoved Withnail onto the bed. He quickly divested the other man of his coat, vest, tie, shirt and trousers, until Withnail was laying on his own bed almost naked but for a grimy yellow pair of Y-fronts. Withnail’s erection was poking out the top. Marwood stripped him of them as well.  
Marwood decided that he himself need only remove his own trousers and pants for this bit of buggery.,

He stroked Withnail’s hard cock, and listened to other man moan.

“No, No, ooooh...don’t stop... oh no!” Withnail gasped.  
 Marwood had heard that anal sex needed oils, or jellies or something (He was in the theater after all). But there was nothing but empty bottles in Withnail’s bedroom. However, he didn’t care, he was randy as fuck and needed this. He leaned over his friend, hoisted Withnail’s boney legs in the air, and dove in. The warmth and tightness of the hole were almost overwhelming.

“No... no... I... I...Oh god...” Withnail cried eyes closed, fingers clutching the stained bed sheets.

Marwood thrust hard and fast into the warm and tightness of his friend. Withnail would cry out half in pain, half in ecstasy, loudly swearing.  
 “You.... fucker... you bastard... I---I---I...UHHH NO!..Nooo! Yess...yesss!”

And soon it was too much for him. Soon the overwhelming feeling came and he wailed as he spent himself inside of dark haired man,then collapsed. Somewhere in the night, the roles were reversed. Withnail on top of him, inside of him hooting triumphantly as Marwood groaned in pain and bliss. Somewhere cocks where sucked. And in the early morning, naked, realising he’d spent a night in Withnail’s bed, Marwood left stumbling in the pre-dawn light for his own bedroom.

They never spoke of the incident, not until two weeks later.

Marwood was pissing and his felt a horrible burning sensation. It was so bad it stopped him mid-stream.

He pulled up his trousers and walked out.  
Withnail was lounging in his chair, glass of booze by his side.

“Withnail you bastard! You’ve given me the clap!” He shouted.

“Eat some sugar and go to the clinic. Jocasta gave it to me, the slag,” Withnail shrugged.


End file.
